“Andros would recall his army,” Riyan said, stroking his beard. “I see. And while they retreat, Hiranya can go on the offense, culling their numbers.”
“Or, you know? Solidify its brand-new king’s rule?”
“You speak of Sanobar, I assume?” Riyan said, looking off into the distance.
“The one and only. He has Ira’s support. He has your approval. He’s capable, and he should be on the throne. We both know he’ll lead Hiranya much better than his father ever could.”
“That, I do not dispute,” Riyan said. “But to oust Rayid for no fault of his own…”
“Really?” Maiya asked, raising her brows. “Really? That man created Mina. Whether through negligence or outright incompetence, she would never have existed without him. A spineless, mediocre ruler can do more damage than a tyrant, you know?”
Riyan fell silent for a long while, eyeing Maiya. “You truly have grown. If only you’d put that mind to Hiranya, instead.”
“I am, Riyan,” Maiya said, returning his stare. “Look, you don’t need to believe in Princess Ira. You need only believe that she wants Andros gone, and that she’ll launch a coup of her own. As for what happens after—well, nothing good for Kin’jal. Either Andros is killed and Ira takes the reign, or a civil war erupts. Either way, the country will no longer be a threat to Hiranya. Or anyone else, for that matter.”
“Princess Ira Kin’jal,” Riyan said, as if testing the taste of the words in his mouth. “I wish to speak with her. In person. I must measure her mettle for myself.”
“You’re serious…”
“I am.”
“Riyan… the whole realm knows just how much you hate Kin’jal. Do you think anyone in their right mind would let you meet with one of their princesses?”
“That is… I see,” Riyan replied, stroking his chin. As far as Maiya could tell, the man was being genuine. But one could never know with him.
“Very well. I shall prove my allegiance through action. Then, if the princess finds it amenable, we shall meet. Know that I will never help a Kin’jal unless I have assured myself of their character. Tell your princess that I am willing to give her this one chance. Should she deny it, then you had better pray we never meet. For her sake.”
Maiya nearly rolled her eyes at Riyan’s threat. Always with the posturing and the threats. He never changed.
It didn’t matter. All that did was that she’d achieved what she’d set out to accomplish. The first block of foundation had been laid. Now, they had to build the fortress that would sit on top.
“Your offer is acceptable,” Maiya said, fighting to keep the smile off her face. “I’ll let Ira know right away. As for this action you spoke of…”
“Fear not,” Riyan said, his lips curling into a vicious grin. “You will know. When the time comes.”
101TARA FIGHTS
Vir returned to his seat, intent on proving the Naga wrong. While he, of course, wanted to witness Tara’s fight, that was secondary to his other, far more serious reason—proving her wrong.
As it turned out, he needn’t have worried. Whether it was her bravado speaking, or simply that her opponent was more canny than she’d anticipated, there was no danger of the fight concluding anytime soon, and Vir felt his worry transform into smug superiority. He’d have to rub this in her face when she was done.
Assuming she won, of course. He’d never rub salt in a wound.
In fact, they seemed to be at something of a stalemate by the time Vir arrived, Tara having activated her poison field, and her Bairan opponent warily keeping his distance.
“What did I miss?” he asked Cirayus, sitting down beside his godfather and Aida.
“Well, Svar over there went in with his greatsword, only to meet Tara’s Corruption Field. I suspect he feared this exact scenario and went in for a quick win.”
Aida snorted. “Didn’t work. That girl danced around him until her field grew thick enough. And now…”
“’Tis a poor matchup, I’m afraid.” Cirayus said. “All Panav fights are difficult, but to pit her against a Bairan in the first round… Fate was not kind to young Tara.”
Vir frowned. “Because of Giant Hide?”
“Aye, a bit. That art strengthens our skin into armor, though for some, it makes us more resilient. Just that Bairans are naturally resistant to things like poison.”
“That is an awful lot of advantages your race bears, don’t you think?” Vir commented.
Cirayus bellowed a laugh. “What can I say, lad? The gods sought fit to make us big and strong.”
Aida promptly punched her grandfather in the ribs. “I’m sorry, Vir. He might be four centuries old, but he has the maturity of a forty-year-old.”
“Uh, huh…” Vir didn’t rightly know how to respond to that, considering he was just about half that. He opted to keep his silence.
“Make no mistake. This is a battle of attrition on Tara’s side, and Svar knows it.”
“Then why doesn’t he attack before the poison gets to him?” Vir asked.
“I expect he’s probing Tara to see if she has any other abilities up her sleeve. She’s a newcomer—her powers aren’t as well understood as some of the others, and even for veterans, you never know what new technique they’ve invented since the last tournament.”
“Makes sense,” Vir replied. He truly didn’t know how Tara would get out of this. It seemed rather hopeless for her.
A part of him was relieved at that thought. Whoever won this bout would be his opponent in the second round. Tara was nice. He didn’t want to fight her if possible. Regardless of who won, there would be bitter feelings between them. Losing before she made it to the second round would be the ideal scenario.
And yet, a part of him desperately wanted to pit himself against her. He couldn’t help getting excited at the idea of an all-out brawl with the Naga.
Had he introspected even a little, Vir might’ve realized that the demonic fighting spirit he’d commented on only recently had begun to infect him as well.
As it was, his eyes were glued to the match.
Tara moved steadily closer to Svar, but never drew in close enough to allow the giant, with his greater reach, to attack.
It was a calculated move—the closer her enemy was, the denser her Corruption Field became.
A cheer erupted from the Panav section, and when he looked up, Vir found an ocean of heart-shaped banners and balloons being waved around.
“She sure is well-loved,” he muttered. “I feel like she’s getting more support from her clan than even Zarak’Nor did from the Iksana.”
“Aye, she’s a popular whelp, that’s for sure,” Cirayus said, keeping his eyes glued on the battle.
Aida, however, was sneering at the stands. “I don’t see the appeal, if you ask me. She’s just another Naga. Take up a spear and the clan loves you. Wish it were that easy for us.”
“Now, now, Aida. Jealousy is an ugly thing.”
Aida, once again, jabbed her grandfather in the ribs, though she might as well have been a fly. Cirayus didn’t even notice.
“What do you know of this Svar?” Vir asked.
“Never heard of him. So many new faces since I was here last.”
“I haven’t either,” Aida added. “Definitely a newcomer.”
“Still, he has all the standard Bairan bloodline tattoos. Without some serious offense, I’m afraid Tara will be hamstrung,” Cirayus said.
Tara dodged a swipe of the giant’s talwar with preternatural grace. She flitted around the stage, as if executing steps in a well-choreographed dance. There was a grace to her movements that Vir hadn’t seen during their time in the Ash.
“Why is she in her human form, though?” he asked. “She can move much faster in her Naga form.”
“I expect she’s keeping that as a trump card, lad,” Cirayus replied. “Naga can shift forms with superhuman speed. Some say it happens instantly, while others say it takes a split-second that’s simply faster than we can see. Countless Thaumaturges have studied the process for millennia, but no one’s ever been able to crack the secret. Not even Saunak.”